


The Phenomenal Bucky Barnes

by BuckyBarnes8999



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyBarnes8999/pseuds/BuckyBarnes8999
Summary: Bucky is adjusting to life in the Avengers compound. It's not all bliss when it comes to his and Steve's relationship, hell, it's not bliss when it comes to anyone and the newest broody resident.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	1. Tricks of The Trade

**Author's Note:**

> For the folks over on the NASBB 2020 discord. 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Tony was getting used to things, slowly. Slowly being the operative word. Sure, they'd all talked things out, sure, they'd come to a truce. And, like the philanthropist he was, he allowed _them_ to live at Avengers compound. Well, other than the few luxuries he'd had installed it was really just an old storage facility of Howard's. 

He was used to all the little things he'd prepared for, Steve being cheerful but having a reproachful glare for any nonsense. He'd gotten used to Barnes practically materializing out of the shadows whenever he decided to make his presence known. Not that he did that often.   
He'd gotten used to walking into a room to Steve and Binky jumping apart at the first sign of company. He'd gotten used to them avoiding his questions.

But the real unusual things started with Tony's-- well, Howard's collection of rare books.   
Bucky had shown up at three thirty in the fucking morning, just as Tony was leaving his lab.   
Bucky seemed to just appear right in front of him in the dimly lit hall. 

"Jesus Christ on a cracker!" Tony exclaimed, hand going to his chest. 

"Your books." Bucky had said, in a low tone. "Should be ashamed. I fixed some of the spines and covers. There were some silverfish problems with a few." His posture was anything but relaxed but it wasn't on guard either, not Doberman Pinscher mode. In fact he almost looked sheepish. He had his shoulders hunched forward, his head slightly down, his one hand crammed into the front pocket of the hoodie he wore. "And don't dog ear your pages." He groused as he turned to walk away.

Tony hadn't even tried or hell, even _thought_ to stop and question the man. He did, however, rush to the old library and inspect the priceless collection.

Indeed the dusty tomes and tales that had suffered the wear and tear of time looked pristine and refreshed. Where leather had cracked and gold leaf had peeled and faded, there were new, supple leather covers and refreshed letters, each embossed with gold and looking . . . Amazing.   
Tony ran his fingers along the spines and pondered the feat.   
Maybe it was a skill all one armed lurkers from the 1910s had?   
"Huh." Tony muttered to himself as he turned off the light and went back to the lab. 

The next day Tony noticed that the leaking faucet in the bathroom off from the living area was repaired, the coffeepot was also giving him less trouble than usual, the fridge door didn't stick, nor did it freeze anything left too far in the back.   
All the minor little things Tony had been meaning to get around to were taken care of.   
Blown lightbulbs, squeaky doors. . . Tony became frantic after a while, seeking out things that were on his list to do. Pneumatics on doors, the pressure sensors on the showers in the locker room. 

Tony started to really _notice_ things that went on. He started breaking things on purpose and leaving them out in the common areas. It started with his alarm clock and escalated to Steve's laptop, the motherboard unsoldered and hidden in a box of scrap electronics. 

The repairs though, all happened while he was not looking. When he had to go to the bathroom or sleep finally took him or Pepper whisked him off. 

Eventually he knew he had to give it up or he was going to go insane.

______________

Bucky sat on the window ledge, listening. The sounds of the night were soothing, very different from the city. Hell, very different from the dreadful silence of whatever cell Hydra threw him in. 

Steve had hurt his feelings for the eighth time that day. Bucky was counting, unintentionally, but keeping track none the less. Steve had hurt his feelings a total of four hundred and fifty eight times in the months that they'd lived at the compound.

He couldn't understand why Steve couldn't just let him touch him in front of other people. Bucky wasn't even trying to be overly affectionate, no blatant PDAs, nothing inappropriate. Just leaning into him, just holding his hand. Fuck, Steve had full on kissed Sharon Carter in front of both him and Sam. 

It had culminated that particular day with Bucky softly asking Steve if he was ashamed of him. Steve hadn't been able to properly answer and Bucky had told him to go to his own bed for the night. And, the bed without Steve was too empty and he had nothing to stave away the nightmares. 

So, he sat on the window ledge in his fuzzy pajama bottoms, listening to the night time sounds and staring down at his knees. Happy cats looked back at him from the fabric of his PJs. 

Eventually a sound that was something besides tree frogs and crickets begin to pique his interest. 

Bucky listened as someone below him scratched a pencil on paper, groaned and started the process over and over again.

Sighing, Bucky dropped from the window ledge, to the patio below.   
He was silent as usual and it was a surprise when one Peter Parker said "o-oh hey Mr Barnes." Without looking up from his paper.  
The Spiderkid never ceased to be amazing, especially when it came to his skills of observation, maybe it was something to do with the" _spider senses_ " he'd overhead the others talking about.

With a sigh, Bucky looked over the scene before him. Peter amid a pile of crumpled up papers on the outdoor table, a telescope perched on its spindly legs at the edge of the patio, pointed heavenward. 

With a click of his tongue, Bucky strode over, hand flying out so fast that Peter practically jumped out of his skin. 

He took Peter's notes and looked them over. With a sigh that sounded like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Bucky put the notes down and put his eye to the telescope.   
With another heavy sigh he adjusted the device and ruffled Peter's hair.   
"Mr Barnes?" Peter questioned after him.  
Bucky almost didn't stop, almost just kept walking back to the wall he intended to scale one-armed. But he stopped, he stopped and turned just his head in Peter's direction. 

"Hm?" He queried right back.

"S-stay and help me?" Peter stammered. The kid was awkward in that ever so adorable way that Bucky could barely resist going protectively mother hen over-- well, he could barely resist it back when he _was_ just Bucky Barnes, when The Winter Soldier was not the reverse side of his coin.   
Now Bucky just frowned and shook his head. "Sorry, Queens. I got a few things to take care of." 

"Oh. . . Oh okay. I mean it's cool I just--" 

"Make sure you pay attention to where your telescope is pointing next time, you were only off by 5°." Bucky had his suspicions of what Peter was doing, hell, what they all were doing. Trying to force Bucky into their everyday lives. Trying to make him have one of his own in the process.

A few weeks ago Steve and Bucky had had a fight about it. It was still fresh and stinging, for Bucky at least.   
A salt sore in the sea.   
It had started with Bucky refusing to attend one of Tony's tedious parties. It was fine when it was just The Avengers and Co. It was fine because nobody paid him any attention once they fell into their usual, friendly banter. Bucky could find a corner and curl around a bottle of something that tasted good rather than had a high alcohol content.   
But Bucky just couldn't stomach the soirees where he would have to wear a suit-- the one he'd found on his bed an hour before the first of those dreadful parties had been downright offensive, with left arm cut off-- and yeah it wasn't like he didn't already shear off the left arm of every item of clothing he had, it beat pinning the sleeve up, but having one _tailored_ to accommodate the lack of his arm felt wrong. Coming from Tony it felt wrong. 

But the particular party that started the fight was apparently to honor Steve for some mission. Steve took deep offense to Bucky refusing to attend. 

It had all culminated in Steve shouting "you used to love people, dancing, parties! What the hell happened to you!?" 

Bucky's body had run cold, his tongue went dry and a bitter smile plastered itself to his face. "Hail Hydra." He muttered sarcastically and shoved Steve out into the hall, locking the door behind him.   
It wasn't like Steve couldn't force the door, couldn't rip it off it's hinges like it were made of cardboard, but he didn't. He didn't and Bucky wasn't sure if he felt relieved or hollow about it. 

All Bucky wanted was quiet. He wanted to curl up in his cat pajamas and drink chai and watch silver screen classics. He'd found an old film projector of Howard's in a cobweb coated corner of the facility.   
There was also a treasure trove of old cans of film.   
There was reel after reel of old movies. A million miles of celluloid.  
He'd first and foremost made sure the film was in good condition. Everything was pristine save for a copy of Tod Browning's FREAKS. Which he spliced back together, only losing about a minute of footage at the beginning. 

He'd spent most of the day reconditioning the old reel to reel projector. It had required him to break into Tony's lab to retrieve tools but, Jarvis proved surprisingly personable and let him slide without much reprimand.   
Bucky decided Jarvis was his favorite, even if he wasn't really a person. Because, then again, neither was Bucky really. 

That night he holed himself away in the massive garage, using one of the blank walls for a screen as he watched movies back to back. He started with Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs and went on to King Kong and The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn. Flynn had been Bucky's first real celebrity crush. With his long hair and propensity for portraying tights-clad characters.  
He watched Mata Hari and Dracula.   
He didn't realize it was nearly noon the next day before he emerged, having gone through all his snacks. 

When a concerned Steve brushed cobwebs out of his hair and asked him where he'd been, Bucky just shrugged his one shoulder and went back to pouring cereal.   
Bucky liked modern cereal, it really satisfied his sweet tooth. Especially kinds with Marshmallows. (Though Bucky would have called the crunchy bits meringues at first guess). 

Bucky had kept the bootleg theater a secret from most everyone. Natasha of course could not be shaken or avoided.   
And with Natasha, Clint Barton was a packaged deal. Thus his hiding away had turned into a secret weekly ocurrance.   
Natasha would bring snacks, Clint would drape himself over both their laps and Bucky would card his fingers through his hair. 

At first, Bucky had thought Thor was the one most like a dog, like a golden retriever, but it was really Clint that held those characteristics. Loyal, goofy, affectionate, excitable, distractible and ever fixated on a treat of some sort. 

Maybe Bucky liked the two of them. 

Maybe they were his friends. 

Was he allowed that? In the strange parameters of the rules he'd imposed upon himself, was he allowed friends? 

With a sigh Bucky tore himself from his thoughts-- Peter was staring and Bucky wasn't sure how long he'd zoned out.

"Night, Queens." Bucky finally said, and took the door into the complex instead of scaling the wall.

"Good night Mr. Barnes!" Followed him through.

__________________

Bucky was locked out of his own room. He stood scratching his head, wondering if he could find another way in and save face or go back out to the patio and climb up. 

Sighing he trudged toward Tony's lab. They're would be something in there he could pick a lock with.   
The thought had crossed his mind to ask Jarvis to let him in but he hated being a nuisance, even if Jarvis was just AI.

There was likewise a satisfaction to doing things with one's own hand. Bucky liked keeping his busy. So, off to pilfer Stark's stuff again. 

Tony was unsurprisingly still there, in the lab, tinkering when Bucky arrived.

Bucky was no stranger to this, no stranger to being silent and unnoticed.   
Hell, the first few times he'd been here at the same time as Stark, the other man didn't even know he'd been there.   
This time would be no different, or so Bucky thought. 

He stood for a while, near the door, half obscured by one of the plethora of Suits Tony had hanging around like wax museum statues. They were creepy, okay. They unsettled Bucky with their hollow faces that he knew could be controlled by either Stark or the AI. They could be constantly watching. Probably were.

Tony was in rare form, the music was up loud enough that Bucky could feel it in his teeth. Bucky didn't always get the appeal of so-called "modern music", he didn't get the raucous "classic rock" Tony preferred. It wasn't smooth or melodic in any particular way he could decipher. 

Tony's hair was standing up at all angles and Bucky could tell even from the distance that he hadn't slept or showered in days. He probably hadn't eaten either. 

He hated that, hated being so involved that food became a secondary concern. He'd experienced starvation during the Depression and during his time as The Winter Soldier. After all, what Hydra agent cared for an inanimate object that never spoke it's basic needs, would have thought to do some silly thing like _feed_ him over the course of a four or five day mission?

After all, it was usually straight to the memory machine the cryo after the mission was done and after that he'd be hard pressed to remember what hunger was.

His hand absently slid across his stomach, fingertips digging into the scar where a port used to be. He knew the map of his own organs vividly. He knew his fingertips rested right below his liver and right above his small intestine, at a center point between his pancreas and his gallbladder.   
Yeah, for years the only way he got nourishment was from a syringe full of jelly-like goop straight into his duodenum. 

He shook his head and disappeared. When he returned he had an unopened bottle of soda-pop tucked under his arm and a sandwich on a plate.   
He was unsure of his actions, how they'd be received. So, while he debated forward motion, he watched Tony growing more and more frustrated with his suit. 

Tony yelped, dropping his spanner when Bucky pressed the butt-end of the cold pop bottle to his nape. 

"Food." Bucky explained when Tony rounded on him. Tony's expression didn't soften but he took the bottle, cracked it open and swigged from it. 

"I don't need a babysitter." Tony groused even as he swayed on his feet. 

"Easy, there, Stark." Bucky put out his hand to steady the man and gently steered him to the workbench his sandwich rested on. 

He was surprisingly docile in allowing himself to be sat on a chair and told to eat.

Bucky meanwhile picked up the dropped spanner and peered at the suit.   
"Don't even think about it, Anastasia." Tony warned, picking up the sandwich.   
"Also, the fuck kind of sandwich is this?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulder and bent to look into the mess of servos and wires tangling in the lower left of the abdomen of Tony's suit. 

"Crust butter." Bucky said as he fingered over one of the wires, tracing it to it's source. 

"The fuck?" Tony queried though he was already eating the concoction.

"Steve doesn't eat the crusts so I keep them and make crust butter." Bucky made a satisfied sound as he clicked something into place inside the suit. 

"Still doesn't explain anything." Tony grumbled, peeking between the slices of bread. "Fucking fossils. Making fossil food. Did you know Steve eats _sardines and crackers_?" 

Bucky shrugged his shoulder. "Doesn't everyone?" 

"They decidedly do not. And if I catch either of you trying to slip me some of those in one of your weird caveman dishes, I might break every treaty. Civil War part 2 Stark's revenge." Bucky found himself laughing in spite of himself. 

"Just you wait, I'll make you a devildine sandwich one day just to watch you go atomic bomb on us. I'm a glutton for punishment like that." 

Tony's laugh startled Bucky so much that he mashed his finger, which lead Bucky to also laugh.

"I'm not even gonna ask what devildine is." Tony said amid snorts. 

Bucky let himself really laugh, and Tony joined in in kind.  
Soon, without either man realizing it, they had fallen into an easy, laughter filled conversation, mostly revolving around how revolting "old timey" food was or stupid stuff they'd both witnessed Steve do. (Both when he was a pipsqueak and when he was an even larger nuisance)

Tony polished off the weird sandwich and the bottle of soda-pop.   
By the time he had, Bucky was closing the panel on the suit. "See how that works." He said, wiping his hands on an old rag. 

Tony rose to his feet skeptically. "Jarvis run diagnostics on the suit." He said and a halo of blue light slid from the top of the suit to the feet and back again. 

"Everything seems to be in working order, Sir." Jarvis spoke from nowhere and everywhere at once. Tony made a surprised sound and turned to question Bucky about the whole thing but Bucky was nowhere to be found. 

It was with an accomplished smile that Bucky picked his lock and fell into bed. The whole Steve issue seemed a little further away, and he'd made Tony smile. Not a small feat where Bucky was concerned.   
He fell into a light sleep, half under the covers and didn't have a single nightmare.


	2. Secret cats and other natural wonders

The arm was the absolute last straw. 

Tony was getting more and more lax with leaving the lab access open for Barnes.   
Both of them were in denial about Bucky having his own workbench that Tony didn't mess with, that Tony had cleaned up for him. 

Bucky was pulling little projects in left and right. Mostly old junk of Howard's that Tony didn't think were of any consequence. Stuff from Howard's flashy days, his show circuit days. The days before Tony was even born, when there were Stark Girls in glitzy ensembles and live bands at demonstrations.   
Before Howard became cold and fixated solely on war. 

Some of the objects made Tony think of Dum-E. More specifically it made Tony think of the way Howard had discouraged anything fanciful when all this bullshit existed.   
So far Bucky had repaired a device that cooked a full breakfast (obsolete), a laser guided cigarette lighter (outlandish), and several different types of alarm clocks. Tony wasn't about to mention the weird toaster that branded bread with Stark Industries logos.

But what Barnes was doing presently had Tony baffled beyond description. 

Bucky Barnes had an array of tools fanned out in front of him and several of the discarded left arms of Tony's older model suits. There were several of them splayed open and parts were interchanging at such a rapid rate, Tony couldn't keep up. 

It wasn't exactly pretty, an amalgamation of silvers and gold and red but it was shaping into an arm. 

Tony had attempted to start a conversation, brook the subject, multiple times. Each time he had to shut his mouth because he knew something caustic threatened to come out. Things along the lines of: "the hell are you doing" and "how are you smart enough to know what you're doing." And "don't fucking blow us to hell, Anastasia." Were bitten back by Stark. 

Instead he watched from a less than acceptable distance.   
He barely registered when Bucky turned to him and asked "Do you have any more flux?" He shook the empty little tin in Tony's face.   
It was only then that Tony paid full attention. "Huh? Flux? Sure."   
Tony ambled over to a small cabinet and pulled out a new little tin of flux. 

He handed it over and Bucky went back to work on the arm. Tony noted the way Bucky's hand tried to adjust to a more comfortable angle when he held the soldering iron.   
He soon came to a difficult realization; Bucky was left handed. Though he managed beautifully with his right. It made Tony think about the necessity of such a skill. What had Barnes been through to force his non-dominant into such efficient submission?

"Need any help?" Tony offered to which Bucky shook his head. 

"I got it. Almost done." Bucky hunched over a little more over his project. 

"You know I could have done this for you. You only had to ask, it would have been of new materials." Tony continued unable to let the silence return once it was broken.

"Waste not." Bucky muttered as he slotted his freshly soldered chip into the appropriate place within the arm. 

It was hours later that Tony was playing nursemaid to Bucky the same way Bucky had to him a couple weeks ago.   
Tony brought him a perfectly normal and acceptable sandwich--thank you very much-- and one of the bitter mineral waters Bucky seemed to enjoy. 

Unlike Tony though, Bucky was able to easily pull himself away and sit to eat the ham and cheese. "You eat lately, Stark?" He asked over a mouthful. 

When Tony gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulder, Bucky produced a knife from somewhere on his person and cut the sandwich in half. He offered it to Tony with a stern look, to which Tony sighed and accepted. 

"You gonna ever tell me where you learned how to do all this shit?" Tony asked taking a bite of the shared sandwich. 

"I'm a hundred years old, you pick things up." Bucky said with a little smile. 

"You know that's not what I mean."  
Tony sighed.

"I---" Bucky's reply was cut short by a certain blonde menace.

"Buck, can we talk?" Steve said as he breezed into the lab like he owned the place. 

"Rude." Tony shot over Bucky's head. "Who let you in? Jarvis, you're grounded."

Bucky put down his half eaten half sandwich and stood, shoulders tense, his whole body going into that Almost-but-not-quite Winter Soldier stance.   
"Yeah we can talk, Stevie." He said, casting Tony an apologetic look. 

That morning Steve and Bucky had fought again. It had mostly been about Bucky sneaking around, being avoidant. Bucky hadn't liked that.  
He liked to be left to his own devices, especially after gaining his freedom. He just wanted autonomy, agency over himself and he absolutely did _not_ need a mother hen over him twenty four seven. He'd missed movie night---morning? With Nat and Clint because of it and now Clint was acting like a whipped pup. 

Now, he followed Steve out of the lab in silence. They were silent until they got to Steve's door and only then did Steve let out a sigh.   
"We gonna go in or stand out in the hallway?" Bucky asked softly.

Steve shook his head and pushed the door open. Bucky went ahead of him at his motion for him to do so. 

The atmosphere was tense and awkward. Bucky stood with his arms crossed where as he would have normally made himself at home. "What is it, Steve?" 

"I just . . . I can't let it go as you telling me to basically fuck off." 

"Language, Stevie." Bucky replied in mock offense. It would have usually lightened the mood but not today. 

"Bucky." Steve admonished. 

"I didn't tell you to fuck off." Bucky shifted on his feet. "I told you I need time to myself without having to account for every second. It makes me feel like everyone's keeping tabs on the monster I could potentially be and not letting me be the man I'm trying so hard to become."

"Where's my spot in all that, Buck?" Steve asked.   
Sometimes Bucky forgot that Steve now had a few good inches on him. It sometimes still startled him not to round on a fiery runt with his hands balled up at his sides, chin out, ready for a scrap.

"Your spots where it's always been, Steven!" Bucky hissed. 

"Yeah, where's that, Buck?"

"I could be asking you the same thing. It's not 1945 anymore, Steve! People are allowed to be queer now!" Bucky threw up his hand, weary of the conversation already because they had had almost the same one five times this past week.

"I'm--"

"What? Not queer?" Bucky cut him off before it'd become the same circular quarrel it always did. "Put your hand up and swear to that on a stack of Bibles, Stevie. Or was I dreamin' you fucked me through the mattress a week ago?"

Steve's cheeks colored and he couldn't quite make eye contact with Bucky. 

"Bucky, I love you but I don't wanna put a label on myself. I'm still trying to figure it all out." Steve lost all the edge in his voice, all the Captain America drained from him. He sounded small and defeated, just like he had done all those years ago when he lost a fight or when he got the ol **4F** on yet another enlistment form. 

"I don't wanna be an experiment for you, Steve, I'm done letting people do that to me." Some of the fight drained out of Bucky as well and he found himself, as always, leaning into Steve for comfort.

"You're not an experiment. I'm so sure of you. I'm so sure of what we are trying to build, but, goddamnit Bucky. . . 1945 was just a couple years ago for me. I'm sorry. I get scared. I pull back from you because the concept of two guys being able to love one another seems like a fairy tale to me."  
Steve trailed his hand up and down Bucky's arm. 

"See, Stevie, I guess that's where you and I differ. If we'd have had some big love confession like back in Romania, when we were still normal fellas scraping out a life in New York, I'd have fought for us. Even back then." He tucked his head under Steve's chin, breathing in the scent of him. "But then again, I'm probably being all talk, considering I've been gone on you since I realized what loving someone was. . . And never told you." 

"I'll work on it, okay, Buck? I'll try to be better. I'm not ashamed of you. I love you."  
Steve buried his nose in Bucky's hair and sighed.

"I love you too, doll." Bucky replied, pressing his body closer to Steve, like he could crawl into the warmth of him.

"And I'll try to be more mindful of your trauma, of everything you went through. I guess it's selfish of me to expect you to just be back to your old self." Steve was steadily walking them backward til the backs of Bucky's knees hit the edge of Steve's sofa.   
Bucky knew the drill, he sat down, tucking his legs up onto the seat. 

"It really turns me on when you talk all considerate and loving." Bucky chuckled against Steve's lips when they were pressed to his. 

Steve breathed out a soft snort of laughter and pushed Bucky back against the cushions. 

__________________________

Snow had started falling sometime in the intervening hours between Steve's arrival in the lab, ushering Bucky away, and when Steve actually let Bucky out of his bed. 

Bucky liked the snow, for some reason he'd always seen innocence and purity in it. Even when it was deadly a lot of the time.   
He thought a lot about that kind of thing lately, the lethality of everyday things. Toaster ovens, electric blankets,   
Presently he stood in his cat pajamas bottoms as the snow drifted around his ankles. He was watching the big flakes drift slowly down from the darkened sky.   
It was past midnight but the snow made everything look like predawn.   
Cold used to bother him, back before he fell. He remembers shoving his feet under Steve on really cold nights.   
Cryo had done something to him, perhaps the serum helped. . . But he barely felt it anymore.  
Bucky thought he was alone on the patio until he heard a soft sneeze from his left. 

"Didn't know you were still around." He said without turning. 

"Where would I go?" Came a voice from under a pile of blankets, curled on one of the overly plush outdoor sofas. 

"You're young still, you could go anywhere, go anything. Besides, aren't you dating the internet or something?" Bucky silently moved to drop down beside Wanda on the sofa. 

Wanda's rich laugh bubbled out of the pile and she carefully uncovered her face so as not to let her layer of body-heated air escape. "How are you doing, Mr Barnes?" 

"Bucky." He offered with a smile.

"Bucky then."

"I'm . . . Adjusting. I haven't been around this many people not trying to kill me or order me around in a long time. How are you holding up?" He couldn't say he really knew much about the girl, just that she'd fought on Steve's side a few months ago, that she'd been held practically captive here at one point. 

"Better. Adjusting, like you. Vision and I. . . We are trying to feel human. Together." She knew Barnes knew that feeling, could commiserate with it. 

"You've suffered a lot. Sorry about your brother. Wish I could have met him. Clint talks about him sometimes." Bucky produced a single cigarette from behind his ear. Steve still hated the habit even though it didn't bother his asthma anymore, thus Bucky had maybe a cigarette once it twice a week. Not that the nicotine did anything for him anymore, the routine of it was soothing none the less. 

When he took a drag off it, lit with Howard's ridiculous laser lighter, he offered it over to the kid.

Her slender fingers reached out and they shared the cigarette between one another, each pensive in the cold night.   
"You are friends with Barton and Romanov?" She asked him after a while. 

"Hmm." Bucky hadn't really thought of it in more than a passing kind of way, but, he supposed, they were. "I guess so." 

They sat together, after that, for a long time, talking about nothing in particular. 

Maybe they talked about everything. They talked about lives altered by The Avengers, feeling like outsiders, the cold, homes that no longer exist, loss.

Wanda tapped out before Bucky did, growing too cold under her blankets as the snow piled around them. 

"Wanda, you should stop by for movie night. I mean, it's always on a random day and not always at night. . . But you should come." He offered on impulse to which Wanda smiled warmly at him.

"I think I'd like that." She stated and went back inside, leaving Bucky in a snowdrift.

______________

The arm went on without much of a hitch.   
Bucky found himself feeling almost sorry that Tony wasn't there to see it.   
He managed to get all the ports lined up on his own and it only hurt for about five minutes as it calibrated. 

He flexed all the fingers and went through the a simple knife routine. Everything was good. The pressure sensors were better than his old arm and he didn't even mind the motley colors.   
Rummaging around he found a Stark Industries decal and stuck it on in the same place his star used it be.   
He giggled to himself and ran to find Steve. 

"Steve!" He called at his door, knocking with the new hand, metal on metal, ringing out. "Steve?" He tried the handle and found it open. 

A quick scan revealed the place to be empty. Steve's shield was gone from it's place beside the door.   
So that's were everyone was. Off on a mission without telling him. 

With a growl of frustration he dragged himself to the kitchen to make some weird toast with Howard's face on it. 

The smell of coffee hit Bucky's nostrils before he rounded the corner into the kitchen. 

"They forget you too?" Came a sleepy voice as soon as the inhabit of the kitchen caught sight of Bucky.

"Clint!" Bucky laughed, glad for once to not be alone. He made sure Clint could see his lips as he spoke in case the Archer didn't have his hearing aids in. "Look at my new hardware!"  
He held the arm on front of Clint's face, wiggling his fingers.

"Oh ho ho! You owe me so many head scratches with that thing." Clint was talking just a smidge loud, indicative of his lack of aids.   
The Archer took down another mug and poured some coffee for Bucky too. 

"Also." Bucky quickly signed a dirty limerick to Barton. 

Clint snorted out a laugh. "Ah fuck! You can sign!" He clapped Bucky on the arm and handed him the coffee. "I'm making breakfast, want some?" 

Bucky signed an affirmative and sat at the breakfast nook, overlooking the kitchen. 

Soon they were both sitting and eating cold cereal and toast, laughing. 

Bucky didn't feel bad about the rest of the team's absence, forgetting him or anything. 

"I'm gonna convince Tony to let me bring my dog out here. There's enough room for him to run." Clint said over a mouthful of _Captain Marvel O's_.

"You have a dog?" Bucky asked and Clint got a faraway look in his eyes and a goofy smile. 

"Yeah, Lucky." He said and slurped his practically white coffee. "I miss the goofball." 

"I'll help you talk to Tony." Bucky said with finality. 

"And I won't tell him about your secret cat." Clint grinned and Bucky choked on one of the starburst shaped marshmallows. 

"What--- how do you--?!" Bucky sputtered. 

"Oh, I'm everywhere, Barnes." Clint said, looking up at the ceiling vent. "You ain't the only creepy mofo in the place." 

"Remind me to stop sleeping naked." Bucky joked to which Clint replied.

"Oh don't stop. That's how I spend my Fridays."   
They both collapsed onto laughter.

They spent the rest of the day watching movies with Bucky's secret cat curled on the floor between them.   
________________

When Steve returned, he was shocked to find Bucky asleep on the patio. The former assassin was curled up, softly snoring, under a thin sheet amid the snow and ice.  
It tugged at Steve's heart in a funny way to see him like that. It made him think of the dead Winter Soldiers in that bunker. 

He'd made the mistake of waking Bucky up abruptly before, it ended in a broken arm. 

Steve was tired, down in his soul he was tired. The mission was a success but it had been gruelling. More alien threats, more tiny villages with people being enslaved.   
He was smeared with blue goo, soot and gunpowder.   
Maybe he could just let it go, let Bucky sleep, he seemed comfortable.   
But Steve missed him, he missed curling into him in the night. It had been a long time since Bucky had slept in the same bed with him. 

Just as he was about to risk reaching out to the sleeping man, Bucky sat up with a groan. "Mmh, were ya watchin me sleep?" Bucky asked groggily, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Hands.

"Bucky you . . . Your arm!" Steve couldn't help but grab the new appendage and look it over. 

"I'd have had it done yesterday if you could have kept it in your pants." Bucky laughed. 

"You loved it."

"I did and I love you." Bucky grinned up at Steve. "Oh fuck, you're bleeding."   
Bucky stood up and touched lightly at the sluggishly bleeding wound over Steve's eye. 

"Come on Captain, let's get you cleaned up." Bucky tugged Steve toward the door. 

"You gonna stay tonight?" Steve asked tentatively. 

"Well if you treat me real nice I might even let you get a hand up my skirt." Bucky joked in a perfect Mae West voice. 

Steve laughed and it felt so good to do so. He followed Bucky obediently and after a shower Bucky did indeed stay the night.


	3. Ice Cream and Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky puts up his walls and they get torn down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we're at the end.

Bucky Barnes had a set of unspoken rules for himself. Some were just vague parameters he set in his subconscious. The main one of those was that he was not capable of being anyone's friend. He was not allowed to get close enough to hurt anyone. Not that he thought anyone would even _want_ to be close to him.  
Those that were, he knew were doing it on orders, Natasha probably was at the top of that list. To Tony he was a curiosity. To Steve he was a ghost he liked to fuck. Who the hell was James Barnes anyhow?  
So, he kept his heart on a tight leash, played along, knowing it was already gonna hurt when the other shoe dropped. 

One evening he awoke from a nap, on the sofa in the common room with Peter Parker's face an inch from his own. 

"Jesus!" Bucky yelped, to which Peter held up his astronomy textbook. 

"Can you help me with this, Mr Barnes?" He asked in a rush.

Bucky blinked, trying to fully wake up. "Hm? Sure?" He responded, rubbing the two days of beard he had going on with the metal hand. 

"And maybe I can look at your new arm?" 

"Don't push it, Queens." Barnes said as he got to his feet. 

They chat as they go over Peter's notes and Peter tells Bucky how he became Spider-Man in the first place. 

"Similar to me and Steve to an extent. Weird how many things are venomous in this world, people included, sometimes." Bucky said thoughtfully. 

"Yeah but you gotta be thankful at least for Mr. Rogers' serum?" Peter eyed him cautiously, knowing this was shaky ground. 

"Mh." Bucky shrugged. "If only because he's alive because of it. I could have done without Captain America." Bucky knew that would have meant he'd never have been rescued from that camp, knew it would have probably meant him dying or becoming a worse perversion of his former self than he already was. 

He never wanted war for Steve. Even if Steve would have been hale and hearty, he didn't want that for him.  
Bucky's uncles and his father had served in world war one. They all had nightmares, they all had scars inside and out. He heard his mother and father talking sometimes, late at night about who George had been before the war. His mother was usually sobbing. He didn't want the light to go out in Steve's soul. He wanted Steve to draw and paint and forget the goddamn fight for once. That was a losing battle. 

"I did reports about both of you in school, you know?" Peter said, pulling Bucky from a spiral of thought. "Have you seen the exhibit at the museum?" 

"I ended up there once or twice. Before I left the country." He confirmed. 

"What was Steve like when he was small?" 

"The perfect picture of one of those little dogs people keep in their purses. The yappy ones?" Bucky made a motion with his hands, bringing them just so far apart indicating the size of said dogs.

"A Chihuahua?" Peter snorted a laugh.

"I guess." Bucky replied to more laughter from Peter.  
"But in all seriousness." He continued. "I miss him the other way. I'm glad he's healthy and everything but I miss the kid I grew up with." 

Peter stopped laughing and smiled somewhat sadly at the former assassin. 

"Isn't it still him in a bigger shell?" The kid asked.

"Worse."

"What?"

"He's worse than he ever was!" Bucky lamebted, slumping back in his chair with a dramatic sigh, flinging his flesh arm over his eyes. "You all see brave Cap, jumping out of planes with no goddamn parachute, grabbing helicopters with his bare hands, jumping bombs, but me, I still see little Stevie Rogers, five foot nothing and asthmatic!" He wailed. "He has no sense of self preservation!"

Peter just laughed and gathered up his papers, closing his textbook. 

"He's almost reckless when it comes to you, Mr. Barnes. I- I- I mean, I mean he was ready to break up The Avengers for you." Peter said excitedly, causing Bucky to peek from under his arm.

"Me? I'm not worth all that." He groaned. "He did all that because of the accords." 

"Bullshit--- sorry for swearing, but, yeah, that's bullshit. He lives for you, Mr. B." Peter said this with such earnestness that Bucky had to almost take him seriously. Bucky's cheeks colored a bit. 

"Maybe he _does_ have a soft spot for me." He admitted, blush deepening.

He didn't understand it though. Why would Steve risk all he'd built with these people for a ghost from his past. And what if Bucky had never remembered him? What if Bucky was The Winter Soldier forever? It was still a possibility that he'd turn, just like when Zemo had said his words.  
That side of him was still there, waiting. 

How could someone like Steve love the antithesis of Captain America that was The Winter Soldier? He didn't, that's the thing. He loves Bucky Barnes. 

Did Bucky love Steve? Sure, of course, definitely. 

Did this ghost masquerading as Bucky Barnes love Steve? More than anything. 

He felt, constantly like the rug was going to be pulled from under him at any moment. He felt like his ruse, if one could call it that, would be revealed like a villain being unmasked in a cartoon. 

Jinkies, looks like he was The Winter Soldier all along. 

Sometimes he thought about leaving. Sometimes he thought about throwing one of Howard's vintage motorcycles back together and riding off into the sunset.  
Before the jig was up, before they all realized what a fraud he was. 

Things were going so well though, he and Steve were not fighting and hadn't done for several weeks.  
Steve had even come to a movie night (at three PM, no less.)

Was it selfish of Bucky to not want to give that up? 

"Say, Peter, do you wanna go raid the freezer? We'll eat Tony's ice cream." Though it was still cold outside, ice cream seemed to be a treat everyone in the compound liked to enjoy year round.  
And Peter didn't refuse. 

"Stark raving hazelnuts." Bucky read off the container with Tony's likeness on it. "Well it's accurate, at least." 

"I want my own flavor." Peter said absently as he spooned out some Raspberry Thorbet to go along side a scoop of plain Vanilla that someone had written "C A P" on in red permanent marker. (If only they knew)

"Probably something alliterative Spider-Man Super Sundae or something." Bucky suggested, adding whipped cream and cherries to his own bowl.

"I kinda like that. Bucky Barnes Banana Blast for you." Peter giggled. 

"Why banana?" Bucky asked, chuckling himself. 

"You eat a lot of them. Or maybe Winter Soldier white walnut!" Peter knew his mistake as soon as he opened his mouth. 

Bucky tried to play it off, tried to act like he hadn't just bent his spoon into a pretzel. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes! I didn't mean it like-- I'm . . . I'm sorry" Peter's eyes were wide and full of regret. Bucky was surprised there was no fear there, just concern. "I don't think of you like that. You're just Mr Barnes to me." 

Bucky pulled his face into some semblance of a smile and pat Peter's shoulder fondly. "It's okay, Queens. You're a good kid, I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that." And here he was comforting the kid who's just refered to him as The Winter Soldier. It was funny in a sad sort of way. 

"I think I'm gonna take my ice cream to my room. . ." Peter said, awkwardly after they'd stood for a while in tense silence. 

"Hey. We're good right kid?" Bucky called after the teen. Always wanting to placate even though he was the one who was hurt.

"Of course!" Peter's smile was genuine when he looked over his shoulder at Bucky.  
____________

It was almost spring and Bucky could tell something was up. Perhaps the Avengers were getting anxious for spring. Spring Fever after a long, hard winter. 

Through it was still snowing occasionally.  
Though the temperature hadn't gotten above freezing most of the time.  
February had ended with a snowstorm everyone went sledding on antique runner sleds Bucky had refurbished.  
Bucky himself didn't participate, chosing instead to watch from the roof.  
Steve was gone on another mission anyway, so he'd be solo.  
He didn't want to impose on them. 

Now it was March and there was ice as often as there was snow.  
Movie nights became more frequent.

Clint was acting strange, everyone was acting strange, but Clint was the most obvious. 

It all started with movie night, Clint and Bucky were on their own and the former began talking about weekend plans. They included some shopping in town and some errands-- which Clint made sound cage and mysterious, _sensational_. Bucky, veering hard from his own script offered to go along.  
Clint made excuse after half assed excuse as to why he didn't need to bother with coming along. It all rang highly suspect to Bucky.  
"I just don't want to inconvenience you! It's gonna be boring, a lot of standing in line!" Clint had said before pushing his messy head back under Bucky's metal hand for scritches. 

Bucky knew then that he'd maybe overestimated his place in Clint's life. He'd warned himself against it from the beginning. Now his heart was feeling the consequences of his negligence of sticking to the rules.  
"No problem, Clint. Target practice after?" He offered, trying and failing not to let the edge of hurt creep onto his voice. 

"Hell yes buddy, ol pal of mine." Clint replied, blissed out from the firm circular motions Bucky's fingers were making on his scalp. 

Bucky tried focusing on _The Last Days of Pompeii_ , on Daniel Rathbone playing Pontus Pilate. 

_______________

Bucky spent the next few days _moping_. He wandered around with a screwdriver in his hand and a piece of Howard Stark toast between his lips near constantly. He was dressed in nothing but his boxers and one of Steve's tee shirts and his hair was in a pile on top of his head.

Everyone was missing, everyone. 

No sign of a soul, not even Clint's dog, who they'd finally badgered Tony into letting stay. (The cat was still secret)

They weren't on a mission, everyone's gear was still around.  
Bucky couldn't figure out what it meant. Had they all absconded on a trip without him? Wouldn't surprise him but _Steve_ wouldn't abandon him like that would he?

Would he?

Bucky's thoughts began to spiral after that intrusive thought was planted in his brain.  
Steve couldn't be counted on, Clint and Nat and Tony. . . Nobody. He was alone. He wasn't worth their time, not a thing to waste their emotions on. 

Thus Bucky took a full pint of ice cream and changed into his freshly laundered cat pajamas and curled up alone in the dark garage to watch Gone With The Wind again. And again. 

He barely even acknowledged the thin glass and plastic monstrosity that was his phone until it rang. And half way through the third run of the movie it did just that.  
He fished it out of the pocket of his pajamas and fumbled with it for a moment, the light and sound assaulting his senses. 

The flashing caller ID read "Stevie" and a picture of Steve's dumb face accompanied it. Thanks to a little bit of copper on his metal fingertips, he's able to answer with the left hand.  
"Hi, Stevie." He tries to sound warm, not like he may or may not have cried today, not like his heart was in his throat.

"Hey Buck." Steve sounds a little winded, like he's been going rounds with the heavy bag. "You got a minute?"

"Always for you, Steve." Bucky replied automatically.

"Listen, I kinda need you to look over some paperwork, sign some things. Nothing bad, I promise." Steve sounds apprehensive enough for Bucky to be worried. 

"I'll be there in minute. Where?" Bucky stood and went to stop the projector. 

"I'll meet you in the common room." The line went dead.

It was a blanket swaddled, red eyed Bucky that slogged his way up out of the bowels of the complex and to the common room.  
He tried hard not to over think but when he caught sight of Steve in semi formal wear his heart nearly stopped, for multiple reasons. Firstly, Steve looked like some Greek Adonis, with his chest testing the limits of the button down. Secondly, Steve hated dressing like this unless it was for some important reason. 

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and just focused on the warm smile Steve gave him that warmed him to the tips of his toes. 

"What uh, what's this all about, Stevie?" He asked, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

Steve just strode forward and caught Bucky's lips in a kiss.  
The slightly smaller man melted against the other and parted his lips at the swipe of Steve's tongue.  
Bucky let the blanket drop in favor of messing up Steve's pomaded hair, of tugging at his shirt. 

Steve backed Bucky against the door frame he'd just come through and slotted a thick thigh between Bucky's own. Bucky happily rocked his hips against it. He liked this, liked when Steve showed him physically how much he meant to him. 

When Steve parted lips with Bucky to kiss down his neck, Bucky moaned softly "Oh god, Stevie. What's got into you?" He moaned, deep in his chest, his hips continuing to make tight circles, grinding his hardening dick against Steve's thigh. 

"Just missed you." Steve groaned against his neck after teasing a mark out that would fade too soon. 

"I missed you too, punk." Bucky was trying to get a hand on Steve's belt but Steve stepped away. 

"Save this for later?" He said, pecking Bucky on the lips again. 

"You're leaving me in a bad way there, Captain." Bucky said, chasing Steve's lips.

"Get your self under control soldier." Steve joked, giving in to another lingering kiss. "We do have some business other than the monkey kind." 

Bucky snorted a laugh. "I thought it was bad news based on our phone conversation."

"I'd never initiate anything bad over the phone, in polite, Buck." Steve laughed and it made butterflies flutter in Bucky's stomach. 

Here he was trying to get his dick under control and Steve kept on doing it saying things or _laughing_. It was like everything Steve did went straight to his loins.

"So what's this business?" He managed to not sound too gone. 

"Just compose yourself." Steve took some much needed steps back and let Bucky reign it in. 

"Good?" Steve asked after a few minutes, and Bucky nodded.

"I'm good, Stevie." He assured him, he had to think of Winston Churchill in his skivvies to get his persistent boner to finally subside. 

Steve strode forward and took his hand, dragging him off into the complex. 

"Where we goin?" He chanced to ask when the passed into more disused sections of the compound. 

"You'll see." Was all Steve offered before planting Bucky in front of a set of double doors. 

They had been dusty and unused when Bucky had crept around here the first week he'd spent in the compound.  
Now they're polished and well lit. 

"Is it a firing squad?" Buck asks with his usual brand of deadpan humor. 

"Just go in." Steve rolled his eyes and lightly pushed Bucky forward. 

Bucky took a deep breath, reached out his hand and gave the door a push. 

The doors opened in a dark room but the lights quickly came on. 

A barrage of "Surprise!" Came from within and Bucky immediately somersaulted backward and behind Steve. 

"What the actual fucking hell?!" Bucky said from behind the wall of muscle he was in love with.

The room before them was decorated in gaudy colors, streamers everywhere. There was a wall of presents and a cake the size of his and Steve's old apartment.

"Happy Birthday Bucky!" It was Pepper Potts herself that took Bucky by the left arm and lead him from behind Steve. 

"My... It's? It's my birthday?" Bucky was in awe at all the people there. Every avenger he'd ever met and some he hadn't was there. Every one of them seemed to want to hug him and everything started to run together.

The dam he'd built of intrusive thoughts and harsh words about himself crumbled. He didn't realize he was sobbing until everyone went quiet, all eyes on him. Not a sound but the fluttering of streamers near the heat vents and Bucky's hiccupping sobs.

"Snow White?" Tony was of course the one to break the silence. 

"Y-you care about me." Bucky choked out.  
He didn't even remember having a birthday. It wasn't something he'd thought about. But these people knew it, they remembered him. 

Clint rushed forward and hugged Bucky. "You have NO clue how hard it's been to keep this from you!" Clint said in a rush. "Dude, seriously, I almost spilled the beans when we were watching that one movie with the Jesus-y theme!" 

Things made sense, now. All the sneaking around all the secretiveness. . . It was for this, for _him._

The party was a huge success after that, the cake was amazing, the company was amazing. 

When it came time for presents, Bucky tried to escape but Steve and Peter steered him back toward the pile. 

Tony passed him the gifts in order of smallest to largest. 

He got a flask from Thor, who winked at him. Bucky gave the flask a shake to find it full. "Alcohol doesn---"

"Trust me, Buck, Thor's will." Steve assured him. 

Tony gave him a set of keys. "Purely symbolic." Tony had said. "I renovated a few rooms for you, lab space, workshop space. All yours. I'll accept you smashing the toaster with my dad's face on it as a thank you." 

Both Nat and Clint got him things for his no-longer-secret cat. 

Peter gave him an iPod filled with "old music". 

Bruce, the though Bucky didn't know him very well, gave him a really nice motorcycle jacket, tailored to accommodate his left arm. 

For Wanda's gift they all sat down in the dark as she wove red into his mind. He trusted her. He trusted her to no end, their nightly talks slash cigarette breaks cementing their bond as experiments trying to be human. He let her pull memories he thought were lost to time and Hydra back into existence.  
It was the most precious memory she could have found floating in the soup and ether. 

Little Steve Rogers standing up to a pack of older, bigger boys in the schoolyard.  
He'd forgotten that, their first meeting.  
So many memories of Steve had surfaces but this one eluded him. Sometimes he had snatches of it just out of his reach in his dreams. Now he was seeing it in full Technicolor. 

Tears ran from under Bucky's closed lids, but he was smiling.  
When Wanda pulled her powers back, Bucky hugged her tightly. "Thank you, thank you so much." He whispered into her ear. 

"So what was the memory?" Steve asked when they all stood and turned the lights back on. 

"One about your ugly mug." He laughed, play-punching Steve's shoulder. 

"What about you, Cap? What'd you get your amnesiac princess?" Tony asked over a mouthful of cake. Now that Bucky had seen the movie, he knew why Tony called him Anastasia. 

He turned to Steve with a smile. "Stevie?" He asked with a bashful flutter of his eyes. 

"Well I. . ." Steve went pink from the tips of his ears.  
He cleared his throat and fumbled around in his pocket. 

"James Barnes. Uh. . ." He began and Bucky's smile fell, he never used his given name.  
"James Buchanan Barnes." Oh boy.

"Bucky. I love you. I'm sure it's not a shock to anybody here. I uh, haven't been very public with that, haven't been the best at being publicly affectionate toward you. But damnit----"

"Language."

"Shut it, Tony." 

Steve then dropped to his knee and pulled out a little grey-black box with a grey-black and gold band inside. "Bucky Barnes, will you marry me?" 

There was a hush over everyone.  
Bucky couldn't believe his eyes or ears. His hands dropped and he stood dumbly for a moment.  
"Steve. . . Of course, you punk." He rushed forward and practically barreled Steve over.  
Everyone cheered when Steve kissed him.

"Well now I'm never gonna forget my birthday again." He laughed into Steve's ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Devildine is a mix of like sardines and deviled ham and a bunch of junk and made into a paste and spread on bread.


End file.
